


by moonlight

by stainedglassflood



Series: watford fragments [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oneshot, Pre-Canon, Watford (Simon Snow), Werewolf!Simon, like seriously one single scene with no context or explanation at all, slightly messy but i still like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-12 23:20:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21484498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stainedglassflood/pseuds/stainedglassflood
Summary: "It hurts you," he said. Both their heartbeats drumming in his head.The wolf stared at him, unreadable."It’s terrifying. To be like this." Baz’s eyes were stinging, but his voice was soft.Moonlight passed over the werewolf’s face.Baz tore the cross off, breaking the gold chain. Held up his fist. Opened his fingers to drop the amulet, and show the burn on his palm gleaming silver in the light. "Iknow."
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: watford fragments [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1548601
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	by moonlight

The night was deep, but the moon still hung low over the treetops, round and cold and pale yellow as the first bite torn from an apple. If you looked closely, you could see how the night scattered the light at the moon’s edges – one a lightning-blue crescent, the other an arching crimson slash.

Baz didn’t want to look at the moon, but the moon was staring down at Baz. Unblinking, uncaring, uncanny, shining through the tower window and glowing silver in the thick fur of the wolf on his chest.

Time had slowed when he’d been thrown to the floor, his head striking a bedpost and his neck twisting, two heavy paws reaching forward and pummelling into his chest. The tower was full of the keening wind, two heartbeats, two gasping breaths; his head had hit the stone floor and silver moonlight burned in his eyes.

The werewolf’s teeth were bared over his throat. There was a snarl building in its breath. Baz didn’t dare turn his head.

"If you’re hoping to tear out my throat and leave me cursed and forsaken and languishing in existential torment with only my tragic good looks for comfort forevermore," Baz told it, voice weak from the weight on his ribs, "you’re in for a bit of a disappointment."

The wolf snapped, flashing the deep red roof of its mouth. Baz’s shoulders tensed involuntarily.

His eyes were starting to sting from watching the wolf from this angle. His wand arm was twisted behind his back, and he didn’t think he could extract it in time to escape being mauled. (It had repelled him, the unearthly way this creature moved. His gut had twisted sickeningly, and he couldn’t be sure if it was even fear, or simply that he hadn’t really known, until then, how unnerving and _wrong_ his own grace must be.)

He didn’t know what happened if a werewolf bit a vampire.

He couldn’t let it be his fault if the world ever had to find out.

Baz took a breath then leapt forward, grabbing handfuls of fur and rolling. The wolf snarled at him, jaws wide, and he found himself staring into wild blue eyes for a moment before he wrenched its head back by the scruff of its neck.

The wolf yowled, shrinking in pain.

Baz dropped it and scrambled back, hand closing on his wand.

The wolf was still whining and shaking its head, backing away from him. Something was glinting and bouncing against its chest, tangling in its fur…

Heavy. Polished metal. A _chain?_

Baz started to get up, and the wolf swung its head towards him, growling. The chain flashed in the light. Static shot through Baz’s jaw.

Not a chain.

A cross.

Baz’s eyes snapped to the wolf’s.

Wide, wild, frantic, _familiar_.

That same pale blue.

Every word Baz knew deserted him.

The werewolf backed off a little without breaking eye contact, then planted its (_his_) paws, squared his shoulders, and growled.

Baz didn’t know how to read a wolf’s emotions. But this was not an animal. And his eyes weren’t _wild _or_ vicious _or_ dark _– they were terrified.

Thoughtlessly, madly, Baz reached out a hand toward the werewolf’s shoulder, under some foolish notion of offering reassurance. The wolf snarled and lunged forward, driving Baz back.

"I- I know," Baz managed, and the wolf snapped at him again.

Baz dodged sideways, trying to get away from the wall. "No, I’m saying- I _know_." His voice came out strained, earnest, almost desperate. "I know you. And I know this."

With an aggrieved whine, the werewolf leapt at him, and Baz caught his paws.

The cross was swinging against his neck. There was red, dark and matted and shining against the grey fur.

Baz caught the werewolf’s gaze and held it. "Let me help," he whispered. "I know."

A frantic growl grew in the wolf’s throat, almost a howl. He pushed forward, and the two crashed to the floor again, bruising the breath from Baz’s chest.

Baz push his hand up into the wolf’s fur and closed his fist around the cross.

"It hurts you," he said. Both their heartbeats drumming in his head.

The wolf stared at him, unreadable.

"It’s terrifying. To be like this." Baz’s eyes were stinging, but his voice was soft.

Moonlight passed over the werewolf’s face.

Baz tore the cross off, breaking the gold chain. Held up his fist. Opened his fingers to let the amulet fall, and show the burn on his palm gleaming silver in the light. "I _know_."

The wolf gave a soft whine, staring at him, then shifted his weight off Baz’s chest, and pressed his cool nose into Baz’s palm.

Baz sat up onto his knees, and shakily, deliberately, gently lifted his other hand to the wolf’s neck, smoothing down the soft fur.

The wolf pressed into the touch, breathing deep and ragged, blue eyes half-closed.

Baz hid his face in the werewolf’s fur. (Softness. Warmth. The smell of apples and bonfires.)

"_Simon_," he whispered. "_I know_."

**Author's Note:**

> so in an attempt to overcome a) my tendency to overthink and overcomplicate everything and b) my tendency to always have a hundred ideas active at once... i have decided to start... another project...! oh, the cleverness of me  
but seriously, this is probably a good idea for me creatively, and you should probably (?!) be hearing a fair amount more from me if i keep this up  
the basic concept being: i write contextless scenes/snippets of under a thousand words, grouped around a vague theme of the more tropey/fantasy aspects of the watford years. hopefully a little like the simon snow snippets in fangirl, but those are mostly 30-250 words, and i guess i just like the sound of my own voice too much for that  
let me know what you think, and if you'd like to see more fics (ficlets?) like this! thanks for reading~


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